Gristrift
by WelcomeToTheHotelCalibornia
Summary: Sixteen children with crime-related powers are taken in by an institution run by the mysterious Condelle. (Humanstuck, Superpower AU)
1. Prologue

**As this is a humanstuck AU, character names that are English words or shortenings of English words (Dad, the Condesce, Spades Slick, etc.) have been changed minimally to sound more like names.**

**Do you normally read fanfiction on another website? This story is also available on Archive of Our Own, Mibba, and Wattpad.**

* * *

Part one: Carapacian Catastrophe

Prologue

When Condelle sat down, light had filtered through the dusty window and the fancy-ass curtains, reflecting off her laptop. Some time after that, the room had darkened, leaving only the computer to light up her smudged makeup and frazzled hair. The shit she went through for power. She made a mental note to get that damn Porrim girl to fix her up later. Condelle dared not look at the little clock at the bottom of the screen. Every so often, her stomach would remind her that she hadn't eaten in the last day, or her throat would remind her that she hadn't drank for hours. Ignoring her body, she focused harder, straining her tired eyes and clicking link after link. She placed a pillow under her laptop to keep it from burning her tyrian purple skirt, her only large movement in hours. Nothing hurt the skirt.

The cry of a baby sounded in the room next to her, followed by the sound of footsteps. Condelle shook her head, trying to concentrate while everybody else decided it was time to throw some kind of shitty noise party. She closed a tab in disgust. The Daunchys had seemed so promising, until they posted on their blog about how gross they thought babies looked. The fuck, man? What's gross about a lil wriggling baby? Only three more nearby families looked like they could meet her needs: the Flothers, the Murels, and the Egberts. If those failed, she would have to cast her net even wider, which would make it all the harder to get the children back when the time came if the parents started causing a shitstorm.

Fifteen of the sixteen babies had already been placed. The families had been contacted and had agreed to the project. Each family met three requirements:

-They were willing to raise a child

-They were willing to give up that child once he or she hit puberty and started showing his or her powers

-They wouldn't tell a soul about Condelle or the school.

She moved onto the Flothers, then quickly clicked away. Mituna was a dumbass motherfucker to recommend them to her. They were a group of total flag-waving patriots who would tell the government everything at the drop of a hat. He must have been so caught up in the posts on their blog about wanting a child that he missed the fucking obvious warning signs.

The Murels seemed promising for a long time. Their firm belief in conspiracy theories actually made things better - nobody who thought the government faked the moon landing and 9/11 would ever report a secret school to that very government. If she played it right, she could convince them her school was out to infiltrate the feds and show the world evidence that the conspiracies were true. The Murels would eat that shit up like candy.

They even talked about wanting to adopt a child but being too distrustful of adoption agencies to do so. A grin stretched the wrinkles around her mouth. Little Johnny Murel. Perfect.

She clicked the "Our Family" link on the Murels's website and read until she stumbled upon the bios of Magda, Kingston, and Wesley Murel. At ages 23, 25, and 31, they all still lived with the senior Murels. That wouldn't do. No matter how strong their anti-government beliefs, it looked like they would never give up a kid entrusted to their care. Condelle let out a small groan of frustration and moved on to the Egberts.

Or Egbert, as it was. Only one person, a man of around thirty. His main profiles were on LinkedIn and Serious Business, under the username Pipefan413. He blabbed on and on about his boring as shit customer relations job at Perio Inc, the company that made Barbasol. Occasionally he posted about how much he would love to be a father, male fashion, baking, and the recent upwards trend in pipe prices. Condelle's grin returned as she read through his posts and profiles. This sucker would work perfectly. He obviously wanted to be a father, but his busy lifestyle meant that he would relinquish John when the time came. Condelle could find no information online about his personal life, so he was good at keeping all hush hush about shit. She just needed to make him keep all hush hush about _her_ shit.

She opened up her e-mail account and typed his address into the "to" section.

_Dear Mr. Egbert,_

_I recently had an issue with my Barbasol shaving cream. It says in your company's commercials that in a pinch, it can be used to put out fires. I decided the other day to see for myself if this was true when I was in the middle of a blackout and my candle lit one of my important documents. Shaving cream, as it turns out, is extremely flammable. I ended up ruining the document, my expensive curtains, and several small trinkets of immense sentimental value.  
_

_I happen to live only a few blocks from Perio Inc, and though I realize it must be inconvenient, I would prefer working out this problem in person. Can you let me know when an appropriate time would be?_

_Thank you,_

_Ms. Condelle Hicks_

She hit send. Condelle wasn't worried about using her real name because even the feds didn't know she existed.

Finally, _finally_, she got up and stretched her muscles, popping her joints in the process. She rushed to the kitchen, turned on the chipped marble sink, and drank the water straight from the tap, relishing the feeling of wetness against her tongue. Her eyes darted around. Nobody could see her doing shit like this. Then she trudged back to bed, snapped her laptop shut, and lay down to sleep. Hopefully, when she next woke up, she would see a new e-mail.

* * *

Condelle knocked confidently on the beige door to Dan Egbert's office. In a nearby empty room, Porrim waited with the baby. She was the shit with babies, always able to tell why they cried, though Rufioh and Aranea sometimes took shifts. Dirk _wanted_ to take shifts, but nobody let him after the Red Bull incident.

A large figure appeared behind the frosted glass window on the door. The doorknob turned, the door opened, and out stepped Dan Egbert.

The first thing Condelle noticed was how similar he looked to Jane's old caretaker, Dale Crocker. They had the same fashion sense: a sleek, black tie; a well-tailored suit; two black, shiny dress shoes; a too small fedora; and a pipe, which sat in Dan's left hand. Both also had large noses, but their facial resemblances ended there. Dale was white with a gaunt face and a buzz cut. Dan had round, Asian features and a mess of short hair.

He gave her a smile that communicated both friendliness and seriousness. "You must be Ms. Hicks. How do you do? I hate to see somebody dissatisfied with Barbasol - I shave every part of my body with it every day."

Condelle tried her hardest not to be thrown off by that statement. Staring at his arms, she noticed a lack of the tiny hairs that coated most people's skin. "Don't go near a fire, then. How can shaving cream be so flammable?"

"Actually, I talked with some higher ups this very morning. I am concerned about your statements. Was the shaving cream you used expired?"

"No." She wanted to work the conversation towards the baby as soon as possible, but she couldn't see an opening.

Luckily, an opening presented itself to her as John chose that moment to cry. Condelle could hear Porrim's hushed murmurs of comfort. Dan looked in the direction of the noise. "One of the people in one of the other offices must have just had a baby," he said, a wistful look in his eyes. "I hope it doesn't bother you."

"Not at all," said Condelle, pumping her inner fist. With this last newborn taken care of, her future power would be in the fucking bag. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, so she wiped the gleeful smile from her face. "What do you think of babies, anyways?"

"I love them! I've always wanted to have a child, but medical complications mean I can never have one of- I'm sorry, I shouldn't share my personal information with customers. Forgive me."

"Actually, that's my child," said Condelle. "I can't really afford him and I'd like it if I could get him to a good home, but I'm scared an adoption agency would hold on to him for too long." Lies first, truth later.

Dan's eyes lit up and a smile spread his cheeks apart. Then he shook his head and returned to a more professional expression. "So. The Barbasol. Was your can, by any chance, expired?" He spoke as if distracted, and she noticed he asked the same question twice.

Condelle forced herself to be patient. The last thing wanted to do was yak about shaving cream,she would do anything to get rid of John for twelve to fourteen years and ensure her power.

So when Dan told a joke, she laughed. When Dan told a sob story about getting banned from Cirque du Soliel, she sighed like she actually fucking cared. Whenever she could, she inserted a reference to John in the conversation. Dan's face lit up like a neon sign every time. Before she left, Condelle made sure to arrange another meeting, promising to bring with her some of her problematic shaving cream bottles.

* * *

When she next arrived at Dan Egbert's office, instead of shaving cream bottles she carried baby John.

As she walked in, she noticed that Dan barely decorated his office. Condelle couldn't help but compare his bare desk and white walls with her own office, full of glitter, pink paint, and all the gold jewelry she could get her hands on.

"Sorry. I couldn't leave him with my older daughter, like last time," she said, putting a convincing amount of guilt in her voice. He didn't seem to notice.

"Is that John?" asked Dan. "He's gorgeous! Hi, John! You're such a darling little boy... a dawling widdwe boy... coojie cooje coo! Who's the cutest baby in the room? You are a -" Dan looked up. His cheeks turned red. "Urn. Sorry. Won't happen again."

This man's ramblings weren't worth any more of her time. She decided to cut to the chase, using her powers to remotely lock the door behind her.

"I think I know your problem. The shaving-"

"I don't want to hear another word about the goddamn shaving cream," she said.

She must not have put enough seriousness in her voice, because the next words Dan said were, "Are you... hitting on me?"

She grinned and wrote in the air with her finger "NO". A trail of tyrian purple nail polish remained floating. Just to make sure he felt sufficiently intimidated, she made her hair swirl around the room, opening drawers to grab office supplies and throwing them to the floor. The lights blinked on and off a few times to complete the effect.

Dan's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Let's cut to the chase, Dan. I got powers you can't even think of. And I ain't the only one. This boy, for example. John. He could save the motherfuckin' world some day. In fact, if you is willing to believe that I can write words in the air, then you should be willing to believe there was some sorta prophecy or shit about him." There was, of course, no ancient prophecy. She just said that about all the kids in order to sweeten the deal.

"Well then," he said, composing himself, though confusion still tinged his voice. "Let's hear more about this prophecy, shall we?" He adjusted his tie.

_Shit_, thought Condelle. Nobody ever asked for more details before. Most felt so awed by her awesome display and promises that they simply accepted it and made off with the child. "Well," she said, "when the blue phoenix kisses the red snake, a hero named John's gonna save the world from certain destruction." She hoped he felt satisfied, as she wasn't gonna sit here all day spoonfeeding shit to annoying businessman.

"Golly. And are you sure it talks about _this_ John?"

"Yes, yes, the witch said it right when he was born."

Dan nodded solemnly. "I take it you want me to raise this boy?" A touch of a smile showed through the confusion and fear.

"For thirteen years, uh-huh. Once he starts showing his powers, he comes with me. I got me a special institution for children like him to figure their shit out. Here's my card." She gave him a glittering, tyrian purple card with a picture of her on one side and her contact details and a picture of Insane Clown Posse on the other side. "Keep ahold of that so you can reach me when it's time." She grinned and handed him both the baby and a slip of paper with details on finding her.

"This is a lot to take in at once," he said.

"You got any questions?"

He sat still for a second, baby in one arm, a stern look on his face. "Actually, no. I should be good. I'll, er, contact you if I need anything."

"Sure," said Condelle, smiling. "See you in like thirteen years."

She left the room, a grin stretching across her face.

* * *

**Author's Note: A bit of writing practice. :) Dad is a bit OOC in this chapter because he's a lot younger - in Homestuck, John is thirteen and right now, he is only a baby! This fic is up for revision/retcon at any moment. Please don't be afraid to tell me what you don't like about it. I am NOT one of those authors who gets angry at negative reviews.  
**


	2. Every Student's Worst Nightmare

_A little over thirteen years later..._

"Son," said Dad, "After these tests are completed, you will have jumped the final hurdle before becoming a high schooler. You must treat this responsibility with maturity and manliness. I am so proud of you."

John rolled his eyes, though inside he felt tingles of happiness, reminiscent of when Nicholas Cage (playing as Benjamin Franklin Gates) saw the extent of the treasure room in _National Treasure._ What a glorious movie. John owned the DVD and watched it every weekend as part of his awesome movies marathon, which both began and ended with _Con Air_.

A familiar scent wafted from downstairs, breaking him away from his thought tangent. "Is that smell what I think it is?" he asked. Dad was pretty much the best baker in the whole world, times infinity. He could take a box of Betty Crocker's vanilla cake, mix it up with love and make the world taste good. John grinned at his internal cool movie reference.

Dad gave John a stern look, but John knew there weren't any mean feelings involved. He beckoned for John to follow him downstairs. John walked through the lame living room filled with weirdo clowns and Nana's ashes and into the kitchen, where a giant cake took up the entire table. A red light shone from the stove, which indicated the oven currently contained a cake, which indicated that this cake would not stand alone. A celebration without at least ten cakes was like a baby without a pacifier. That was to say, he was a rather piss-poor excuse for a baby if you asked John.

Of course, he couldn't finish even the one cake, what with it taking up the entire table. It was the principle of the thing.

Even Dad could go overboard, though. On John's thirteenth birthday a few months ago, he had baked like twenty-six cakes, which was altogether too many cakes. John had flipped out a bit and stuck his fake arms into one of them before going back to playing his video games. He still thought the addition of arms made the cake at least three times funnier.

The icing was mostly white, but because Dad was a total cornball, a picture of John's face adorned the middle: dark brown skin, black hair that he tried to make look like Astro Boy's from the 2009 film but ended up making look like a bunch of lumpy spikes, glasses with giant frames and tiny temples, and three teeth that poked out from his smiling upper lip.

"_Dad!_" John said in an annoyed voice.

Dad ignored the comment. "This cake is for after your tests. We leave as soon as I get the batter into the oven. Are you prepared?"

The tests. Bluh. As far as John was concerned, final tests were for high schools and colleges and the like, not middle schools. The closer the hands on the clock got to 7:40, the lower his stomach sank. Maybe he could delay Dad a bit. See if he could get to school late enough that his final could be rescheduled. "Wow, Dad, are you sure? I mean, I would love to have just a taste right now of this fantastic cake that I am sure was baked with love. Heheheh."

"Son, this cake is meant as a reward. The time to eat it is when you have completed your tests."

_Fuck! _John waited for Dad to finish his batter and rushed off to the bathroom before Dad could make him get in the car. Nobody could fault him for going to the bathroom, right? He looked around for possible materials for an awesome disguise, but unless he wanted a literal toothbrush mustache, nothing presented itself.

"You are going to be late for your tests," called Dad.

"I'll be there in a minute!" If only he had something that could cause a distraction. Unfortunately, he had used his last smoke pellet last week in a daring escape from having to go to Dadly Depot again to buy new nose hair trimmers.

"Son, you are going to be late for school, and that is unacceptable on such an important day."

John sighed and walked slowly to the white minivan. At least Dad was the kind of good citizen who never went above the speed limit. He could have written the manual on how to drive safely.

The ride to school passed uneventfully. John looked out the window like a prisoner being led to the electric chair. Why couldn't his school be like every other middle school and have days of fun and relaxation at the end of the year? He didn't need to be "prepared for high school." He could be a street performer like Dad. Those card shooting wristbands weren't for nothing!

Dad's car stopped at the school and John got out. Soon, the car drove off, leaving him alone with the offending building. Wind buffeted his face and messed up his hair. John took his backpack and walked slowly to the school. When he got to the front doors, he found them locked. He gave a nervous laugh and tried again a few times before he saw a sheet of paper taped to the doors from the inside.

SCHOOL LOCKED FOR TESTING DAY

DO NOT DISTURB

FOR EMERGENCIES, DIAL 555-6837

John reached into his pocket where his cell phone usually rested and found it missing. Did he really arrive _that_ late? He hadn't been _super_ serious about delaying. He just meant it as kind of prank, maybe a way to skip the school day if successful, not a way of locking himself out with no way in and no way home.

Rolling his eyes at his luck, he walked around to the window to his classroom. All of his classmates sat silently with their heads tilted downwards, focused on their work. "Hey!" John shouted, knocking on the glass. "I'm out here!" Nobody looked up.

John leaned against the wall dividing him from his classmates and swore, scrunching his eyes shut in annoyance and anger. How would he explain this to Dad? Could he even graduate middle school? If only he could find a way inside. He wanted to be in there and out of the frigid wind more than anything else in the world.

A small wave of nausea overtook him and his hands tingled as if asleep. The sound of muffled laughter made him open his eyes. He stood on the other side of the wall, inside the classroom, and faced the rest of the class, most of whom were staring at him. A few made it a point to look away, including the teacher. Some held their hands over their mouths. Others giggled.

Wow! He made it in! "Sorry for interrupting. Can I have my test?"

The teacher said nothing. John didn't understand the problem until he looked down at himself and didn't see a green slime ghost looking back up at him. Nor did he see any pants, underwear, or shoes.

He smashed his eyes closed and screamed, waving his arms around like a maniac. This had to be a dream. In cartoons, kids always got "naked at school" dreams. So he had to be dreaming. Had to be. How else could he have gotten in there without opening a door or window? So that settled it. Dream. Definitely a dream.

John pinched himself. No sensation of waking up resulted.

He looked down again, hoping that he would mysteriously find himself clothed. Wow, this sucked. Quickly, he used his hands to cover up his privates. On his chest, he saw a small white dot. What a lame time to get vitiligo.

"John Egbert!" said the teacher, shock layering on top of disgust layering on top of anger layering on top of disbelief like one of Dad's layer cakes.

"I am sorry! I do not even understand why I am in here, let alone naked," he said.

"Get to... go to the principal's office. Here, take this. This, too." She took off her jacket and handed it to John, along with a small blanket. Her eyes stayed closed the whole time. He put them on and scampered across the room and out to the principal's office.

* * *

"Son, I am very proud of the way you handled the situation. I have known for a long time this would happen." Dad seemed to have trouble holding his voice steady. He looked down. "When we get home, you have ten minutes to pack."

"Wait, I don't understand," said John, getting into the car. Dad hadn't said a word on the way out of the school and had walked rigidly and with trepidation. "You knew I was going to be naked in front of my whole class and you never even told me? You are so dumb and also lame."

"I had no specific knowledge of what your powers would be, but I knew they would manifest with puberty." He spoke quickly and his tone suggested he wanted to get the words over with as soon as possible.

"Having all my clothes come off sounds like kind of a stupid power. And how do you know all this?"

"The person who I believe is your... your birth mother told me. She is coming to take you away for her own purposes. I cannot allow that to happen."

"What? I'm adopted?" John wished the car had enough room to freak out at the stunning revelation that his tall, light-skinned, Asian Dad did not contribute to his genetics.

Dad gave no response. He turned on the car and slammed the accelerator. Dad had never zoomed out of a parking lot like this before. Once they were on the road, he went even faster and raced around the other cars. John noticed a speed limit sign whoosh past and stared at the speedometer. For the first time, he went not just over the speed limit but thirty miles an hour over. What was wrong with his Dad?

They quickly made it to the house, where another car was already parked in the driveway: a hot pink Lamborghini decorated with glitter and bumper stickers. Dad drove past the house without even slowing down. His knuckles grew bone-white on the steering wheel.

"Aren't I going to get to pack? I'm hardly wearing anything, for one thing, and also my movie collection is in there."

The car accelerated again. Dad didn't say a word.

* * *

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	3. On the Run

All kinds of gross sweat gathered on Dad's face. He stayed silent and eventually John stopped asking him questions. The freeway whizzed past at a breakneck speed. Dad drove like Maude from _Harold and Maude_, a movie which everybody would agree was the entire reason the seventies existed. The sound of horns followed their path. John still wore the jacket and blanket combination from his teacher.

The whole situation pretty much sucked. At least John found his cell phone after rooting around under the seat. He must have suddenly grown popular because he saw twenty-three texts, five voice mails, and seven e-mails waiting for him. He looked at the texts first, which all came from a new number.

hey john i heard you been usin your power well come on home and ill tell you all about whats up in your life i know you from when you was a baby

i got a place set up where all kinds a people like you can hang out and practice and shit you should come

im your momma you know i mean you is a clone but i helped and trust me you would be betta off with me

theres a mothafucka comin afta you who wants to kill you so youd better come with me

im waitin outside your house man whateva smell is comin from your kitchen is )(-ELLA biznasty i mean wow you can COOK

there is all kinds a kids like you with sweet special abilities and you would have a lot of fun i know you dont got no friends

The rest of the texts were repetitions of the first few until he got to the bottom.

i KNOW you not in school no more and i KNOW you didnt come to me dont think you can escape the batterwitch ill fuckin find you

Another text came in as he looked.

youre gonna come with me whether you like it or not you cant hide i know where you is

"Um, dad?" said John, "there's this person who keeps texting me, saying she knows where we are and is going to get us and basically it is creeping me out."

Dad took one of his hands off the wheel and plucked John's phone out of his lap. Then he rolled down the window and threw it out into traffic. John stared, a stunned look on his face. "Dad, why did you do that?" Dad said nothing.

They pulled off the freeway and into the parking lot at Walmart. "Son, I need you to go to the toiletries aisle and get enough items to last us for a month. I will deal with food. Meet me by the front door as soon as you can."

John nodded. He felt a little bit scared now. He rushed through the aisles, bumping the cart into walls and knocking down display cases before gently putting them back up. When he met up with Dad, he saw that Dad had both his hands on different carts with a third cart tied to his belt loop. All three brimmed with food, especially cakes. John noticed a bag of fruit gushers and grinned. They were his favorite flavor, Radical Yellow Plaque Buildup. On another cart, a bag of key limes sat next to a bag of crab apples, a bag of mandarin oranges, and a bag of eureka lemons.

John took Dad's third cart as well as his own and they walked back to their car. Dad remotely unlocked the trunk and then stopped. From the other side of the car limped a grinning teenager with paint all over his face. Small black lines of makeup gave the impression that his mouth was sewn shut. He walked with a decided limp and his left arm never seem to move. He wore a skeleton onesie, purple boots, a purple speedo, and black gloves.

"Thou motherfucking went and tried to escape from my fucking main bitch, Condelle," said the strange teenager in a gravelly voice. "That shit's unholy. Thou must come with me to stave off getting eternally fucking rekt."

John backed away. This man was obviously on some sort of drugs, and everybody knew drugs were bad.

Dad lifted John in his arms and started running. Whoa, Dad was _strong_. Holding a middle schooler in his arms didn't even slow him down. John looked back and saw the skeleton man leaning against their minivan, grinning, and was reminded of the movie _Killer Klowns from Outer Space_.

After a while, Dad stopped running and set John down. John walked alongside him through bushes and grass.

"Where are we going now?" asked John.

"They want to take you away from me. We are going where they cannot find us." He marched steadily and gave no more explanation.

They hiked through the rest of the day. Sometimes they would cut across a road, a shopping plaza, or a group of houses. John got no response when he asked how Dad knew where to go. Every rustle of bushes made him jump, worried that the skeleton man had returned. He got the unsettling feeling somebody was watching him in the middle of a field, but when he looked around, he couldn't see anybody. When John's feet started to hurt from walking barefoot over grass and cement, Dad took off his shoes and gave them to him.

As the sun crept behind the horizon, the two came upon an abandoned factory, its windows broken, boarded, and yellowed. There they stopped. "I used to play in this place when I was but a boy myself," said Dad. His voice startled John, who had grown used to the silence.

John followed Dad into a small building next to the factory. Inside, two dusty, stained beds were set into the walls. A technical manual lay on the floor, two of its pages ripped out. In the corner sat a closed gallon milk jug. A stain with old, dried drips falling from it suggested that somebody had eaten something blue and thrown up on the wall. The carpet was hard and covered in dirt.

Dad closed the door and locked it, sending the room into total darkness. "We should be safe here. Nobody knows about this place."

"But what about food? And water and also I need to brush my teeth," said John.

"We will deal with that tomorrow. For now, you should get some sleep. I am so, so proud of you for making it this far."

John felt around for a bed and lay on it. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it felt good to not be walking anymore. Just as his eyes shut, a loud knock sounded on the door. John sat bolt upright and clutched the blanket.

"Come out now or we'll motherfucking make you come out," said the skeleton man's voice. How could he have followed them all this way?

"Why, Kurloz, I am astonished that they lodged so close to the institute! Is this not a happy coincidence?"

Great. A second creeper. John knew enough not to let them know he was in there.

"If you don't come out into the righteous night right motherfuckin' now, my ryda here will have to show you the fucking way himself."

John didn't like the sound of that. He huddled under the blanket like a toddler afraid of imps.

With no warning, pebbles pressed into his back where old fabric once was and a small amount of light made it through the blanket.

"Hello, John. Allow me to take that saddle blanket off of your withers. Welcome to your new home!" said the second creeper, the one with the excited, high pitched yet male voice. He felt the blanket moving from on top of him and soon saw the last rays of sunset.

"Aaaaaugh! Why are you being so mean and dumb?" said John, backing away. He looked around. The abandoned factory stood in front of him. To his side was the small building he had just tried to sleep in with Dad. Kurloz stood near a second man, who was dressed in brown leather with golden buttons. He wore goggles and a ponytail.

"My name is Horuss. How fortunate that you decided to choose this structure as a stall, because underneath that factory is the door to your neigh life."

The door to the small building opened and out stepped Dad. He started with a punch to Horuss's face. Horuss was knocked back a few feet but appeared unharmed. Calmly, he grabbed Dad's arms and dragged him back into the smaller building. "Fiddlesticks! I am sorry, John, pardon my inexcusable language. It would not behoove your sire to interfere. Come with us. Did you know you are a superhero? We are all superheros. I mean, our powers make us better at committing crimes than solving them, but we could still be superheroes if we wanted to. What is your power, John?"

John blushed, remembering all his clothes disappearing like a rabbit in a hat. He was not going to tell anybody about that power, let alone a couple of jerks who were mean to his dad. was his Dad okay? Where was he and why wasn't he fighting to get his son back?

John resolved to escape at the first possible chance. Not while Horuss was around, though. That man could probably punch straight through his face.

Kurloz stayed silent and Horuss chatted about horses as they made their way inside the factory. According to Horuss, everybody here had a crime-related power. How was taking his clothes off related to a crime? Was he going to be the flasher while everybody else got to set fires and break into houses?

Then he remembered standing outside the school, wishing he could get into the classroom, and suddenly being where he wanted. He had been too focused on the lack of clothes to pay much attention. So he _did_ get to break into houses. His power wasn't as lame as he thought.

"I'm a superhero," whispered John in amazement.

"That you are. You are going to fit in here most appropriately," said Horuss.

* * *

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	4. The Factory

They entered the factory complete darkness swept down on them. With a click, Horuss made a light shine from the middle of his goggles. Dusty cardboard boxes surrounded the entrance. Mouse poop competed with old stains for dominance of the floor. The ceiling sagged. Someone had scrawled graffiti all over an old reception desk. Horuss and Kurloz led John through twisting corridors and strange rooms, some so big that he could barely see across them and others so cluttered that he needed to climb over metal beams and boxes of parts to get through. Birds and mice sprang away from them.

In one room, four eyes looked at John from behind an old box. The eyes looked too big to belong to rats and they shone as bright as Horuss's light. John shuddered. If there was one universal fact, it was that strange eyes in the darkness were always bad news.

They descended creaking staircases made of metal, wood, and concrete. Kurloz blended into the shadows despite the bright bones on his outfit.

"Here is the entrance," said Horuss, pointing to a door free of the dust and grime that coated the rest of the factory. John wondered how easy it would be to put a bucket of water on the door and prank the other superheroes. Horuss reached for the doorknob. John noted that though most of his skin was a light, middle eastern brown, three shiny, grey scales covered his hand.

WHOP!

Kurloz hit the floor. Behind him stood Dad, who had ripped one of the beds out of the small building outside of the factory. That was just plain way too amazingly strong, even for somebody as good at everything as Dad. A low, animalistic groan escaped Kurloz's mouth. Horuss moved to fight.

"Stop," said Dad. "Tell Condelle that if she takes my son away from me, I will tell the media everything I know."

"Stay with John," said Horuss, helping Kurloz up. Then Horuss entered the door.

John stayed completely still, because even though Kurloz didn't seem strong, he gave John the total willies. Kurloz smelled like body odor and incense. After a few minutes Horuss came out with a tall woman with tanned European features. So that was Condelle. "I heard you was threatening to snitch," she said in Dad's direction. Her voice didn't match her body. It seemed like a bad imitation of an African-American accent that sounded more hillbilly than anything. John cringed. She wore a black dress with a thick, curvy H symbol on it. A ring with four pearls spaced evenly around it enclosed her right ring finger.

"I cannot abandon my son," said Dad.

"I ain't giving up one of my pupils," said the Condelle. John got a definite "old person trying to be hip" vibe from her and it was awful.

"He's not your pupil."

"He ain't your son."

"I have to take care of him and make sure he is safe." He gave Condelle a look of stern, fatherly disapproval.

"Look, man, I ain't gonna stop you from visiting him on the weekends, and he's a lot safer here than wherever you could put him now that his powers are showing. Jack nasty-ass Noir and all."

A puzzled and concerned look crossed Dad's face. "Jack Noir?"

"Some motherfucker who keeps trying to kill all of us. I can make it so he can't see them but if they spend too much time outside of this area..." she made a slicing gesture on her throat. "Want me to show you the remains of Ezekiel Zahhak?" Horuss winced at that.

"Now, ma'am, that will not be necessary," said Dad, but he spoke too late. The door opened on its own and a coffin floated out, banging on the door frame. The lid sprang open to show a muscular man preserved at around age 35 with long hair and a smooth, grey patch covering his left cheek. His suit unbuttoned and his shirt came up, revealing several stab wounds.

"This is why you need to store John over with me," said the woman with a grin on her face that clashed with the situation.

"This man is threatening my John? Where is he?" asked Dad.

"If you can find him, you can kill him," said the woman. "John stays with me."

Dad looked pained, but nodded.

"Um, Dad, that reminds me. If you knew all this time I had a cool power, why didn't you tell me?" said John.

Dad looked down. "I wanted to pretend I could stay your father forever. When Condelle told me about your ability, she told me also that this day would come."

"I love you Dad, even though you are sometimes really dumb," said John.

"I guess it is best that you stay here, then. I will visit every weekend and work to find and apprehend Jack Noir."

John nodded and even though it was usually for babies, he gave Dad a bear hug and pressed his face against Dad's chest. He hoped Dad would bring his awesome cakes when it was time to visit.

"Come with me," said Condelle, stepping through the door. "You're gonna have a wonderful time at your new home."

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	5. The Boy with the Purple-Streaked Hair

The door led to a long, pink hallway with tacky stickers all over the wall. Condelle took the lead. Kurloz and Horuss stayed in back. They went down a spiral staircase and into a large room where dozens of teenagers lounged. Some sat watching TV or playing video games. Others enjoyed a game of basketball. Most sat around talking. Several doors led off of the room.

"You is gonna room with Dave, Rose, and Jade. Lights out in half an hour, so you gotta find them by then. I got shit to do. Your shit starts tomorrow, no excuses to laze around while the other kids face the rift," said Condelle. She sauntered off into one of the doors. It sounded like the boys and girls roomed together unless "Rose" and "Jade" happened to be male. He supposed Condelle trusted that a bunch of thirteen-year-olds wouldn't be having giant orgies. She probably separated the older people. Or maybe she just didn't care.

A kid about as old as John stepped up to him. Purple dye streaked his hair and he wore a cape like a supervillain. "Hello, newcomer," he said in a haughty Greek accent. "Come with me. I'll show you the right people to hang around with. You don't want to turn out like your older clone. Wait," he looked over John, making him acutely aware of the blanket and jacket he wore. "You're not wearing that getup because you're _poor_, are you? There has to be another reason."

"I don't think so. I mean, I live - er, lived - in the suburbs and Dad was talking about me maybe getting into a private high school, so probably not."

"Good. I have zero tolerance for fucking freeloaders. All they do is take away from those who actually have the gumption to go out and make a lot of money. You and I aren't like that, though. Even though you look like a plane crash in those clothes, you at least don't steal charity from people who earn their keep," said the boy.

John didn't know how to respond to that. "You said something about me having an older clone. What is up with that? And why is my older clone bad? Is he evil and will I have to make the choice to stay good despite having evil tendencies?" asked John. "Whoa. He'll be like 'John, you have to come be evil with me. It is in your blood,' and then I will have to be all 'though you are my clone, that is actually a bunch of baloney and I will fight for the good side.'"

"Nah, he's just kinda a tool," said the boy in a bored voice. "He's bi but he won't go out with my older clone, who is the greatest and most powerful person here. I mean, straight kids I can get but if you're gay or bi, you at least hafta try Cronus out. See if you like him. He deserves a good relationship."

"I am not a homosexual, so there is no need to hook me up," said John. "Does everybody have an older clone?"

"Yeah, even the older clones have older clones, but nobody really sees those guys much except for Condelle. One of the older-older clones actually died because he was too stupid to stay away from Jack Noir. I would never make a mistake like that and if I did, Cronus would kill Jack Noir because his power is poisoning and Jack Noir has to eat eventually. My name is Eridan. What's yours?" He reached out a hand.

"Hello, Eridan! I am John," he said, shaking Eridan's hand. "So what is your power? Mine is breaking into buildings."

"My power is like being a drug dealer. I can cause emotional highs and lows and make people dependent on me. You should really thank me for not using it on you and everybody else, because I could. It's only because I'm a really great person that I don't."

John nodded even though something didn't seem quite right about that.

"Here, let me show you around. We're going to be great friends, I can already tell. I'll show you the shitbags to stay away from and the correct people to be around if you want to stay on top around here."

"O... kay," said John, a bit nervous about Eridan's way of thinking

He led John across the room to where a group of John-age girls (younger clones?) were doing each others' hair. They sat on a small step that stretched the entire way around the rectangular room. John heard giggles before he got close.

"That girl with the long black hair is the most beautiful girl in the entire world. I love her with the passion of ten thousand volcanoes. I wish to be the Napoleon to her Marie Louise. Did you know Napoleon had two wives through his lifetime? His later wife was Marie Louise, who was a real beauty but _obviously_ not as big a beauty as Feferi. Ignore the others. Nepeta is a moron and Kanaya's a stuck up bitch." When he talked about Feferi and Napoleon, his eyes lit up the way Dad's did when he talked about cake.

"Hi, fishface! Who's the new catch?" asked Feferi as they walked closer.

"Feferi! Hello. This is my new friend John. If you would like, I could meet you without him around for, well, whatever reason you so choose," said Eridan.

"I'll prawn-sider it, but right now, I'm a bit busy."

"Oh. Holy shit. You would? Really? I mean, of course you would, that's why I asked, but -"

"I'm _busy_," said Feferi.

They moved towards the basketball game. Eridan seemed to float. Every few seconds, an enormous smile would creep onto his face, only to be replaced with his default scowl. "Feferi said she'd _consider_ it. She said so. With her very lips."

"Hey, that's Horuss! I know him," said John, pointing to the basketball game.

"Ugh. Stay away from him. He's just as fucking creepy as his younger clone. What a weirdo. Don't you dare tell Equius I said that, though. You may be dumb, but you're not dumb enough to betray a great buddy like me. Right now the person you should be looking at is Cronus. He's right there, with the ball currently in his hands. I wouldn't want to interrupt his incredible basketball skills."

"Pffft, I bet he actually has super lame basketball skills. Look, his face has a bunch of weird grey scales all over it and he's dragging his left leg. What's with that?"

"Don't insult my older clone! He didn't do anything to you! All I try to do around here is fit in and get along and here I have to deal with people saying mean things to my older clone! Cronus can't help his chitin. We all get it, maybe because we're powerful and maybe because we go into the gristrift so much, I don't know, it's no reason to be mean. Cronus is great at basketball. And unlike Jane and Damara and Porrim and the rest, he'll never stoop to getting robotic enhancements from Horuss or Equius." Eridan's upper lip shook. It didn't take much to get past his haughty demeanor, which made it even worse when that haughty demeanor came back. "Maybe I was wrong about you, John. Maybe you're a tool like your older clone. All he does is sit around watching dumb movies all day. Is that you, John? Do you like _Weekend at Bernies_? If so, we are done hanging out right now."

"You know, that might actually be a good idea. Can you direct me to Dave or Rose or Jade? I have to room with them. I wonder what the rooms look like. Probably awesome because we are all superheroes. Maybe we even get batcaves! Only they would be called Johncaves and Rosecaves instead, I guess."

"Fuck you, John. I tried to reach out to you. I tried to be your friend. Nobody can say I haven't tried. And what did you do to me? You threw my kind and generous offers of friendship straight into the dumpster like a battered couch. I hope you get lost in the gristrift and never find your way out. I hope you never have any grist to eat. I hope one of the really dangerous people gets mad at you, not somebody who graciously holds back his powers like me." His eyes got watery as he talked. When he finished, he stormed off, his fists clenched.

_What a strange and unpleasant boy_, thought John. He tapped the nearest person on the shoulder, a short younger clone with messy black hair. "Can you show me where Dave or Rose or Jade is? Also if you know, what is the problem with Eridan?"

"Eridan is the whole reason we have a fly problem. He's that big of a piece of shit. It's like the entire population of New York had to share a single fucking toilet, and Eridan fucking Ampora was the result." He spoke loudly and John hoped Eridan couldn't hear. "You must be John. I hate you already, possibly because of your stupid glasses and possibly because of your hideous and moronic smile. Dave is over there. He's one of the only people here worth talking to, so don't wreck him. Now get out of my face."

Was everybody here a colossal jerk? He walked across a carpeted area to sit by Dave, who sat cross-legged on the step and listened to an iPod. He seemed to be really into it, hitting imaginary instruments and tapping his feet. Even though the overhead lights shone brightly, he wore pointy sunglasses.

John sat down next to Dave and stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt his music.

"Lights out in five minutes," came Condelle's voice from a door on the other side of the room. Dave looked up at John and gave him a small, expressionless nod before getting up and walking towards one of the doors. John followed. As they walked, they were joined by a dark-skinned girl with long, black hair and a pale, heavyset girl carrying a bundle of thick books. _Jade and Rose_, thought John.

The four of them headed into a single room with a partition in the middle to separate boys and girls. Dave had decorated their side with posters of robots and street art. Next to his bed sat a set of turntables and a synthesizer. A laptop and a couple of jars of dead bugs lay on the floor. Dave collapsed into his bed and fell asleep.

John sat in the his own untouched bed and wondered if everybody acted so rudely towards him because of his jacket-and-towel getup. He would have to find a way to get new clothes in the morning. He nuzzled into his pillow, scrunched the blankets around him, and fell asleep.

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	6. Enter: Oil

"Rise and fucking shine, man."

John's eyes opened. Dave leaned over him, his pale hair and skin offset by his oversize sunglasses. "What time is it?" asked John.

"Six o'clock and time to rock. The sick beats of the day aren't going to slam themselves. We're late."

"Before any rocking or beat slamming is done, I really need to get some new clothes on. Do you know where I can find some?"

"Nah. Clothes are for chumps. Do you want to be a chump? I didn't think so. We all practice in the nude. It prepares us for real life, where I have to fight the eternal battle of getting girls away from my crotch dachshund long enough to eat a decent meal or take a piss."

"Do we really?" His power _had_ made his clothes disappear.

"Just messing with you. You can borrow some of mine for now and then put them on the list for when Condelle has another grocery battle. Hate to be the cucumber to cross her path."

"Alright, then. What do we do? Just go out and wait for Condelle to teach us?"

"Today's Saturday, so it's a rift day, not a practice day, so I guess we should head on down. It takes a while to get there. Condelle never got introduced to the wonders of elevators." He started off and John followed. Rose and Jade had already left. Would he ever meet them? As he exited, he peeked into their side of the divider. A large terrarium sat behind one of the beds.

"Do either of the girls who live with us have a pet?" asked John.

"Oh, yeah, Rose has a salamander. Viceroy Bubbles von Salamancer. For all the talk she does about the Freudian implications of _others'_ behavior, she sure keeps that giant dildo well taken care of."

The two went out into the large recreational room and through another door, which led to a curving metal staircase.

"What's this place called? Like, not this staircase, but this big old building underneath the factory. How did it even get so big?" asked John.

"We call it Skaia Institute, when we're not going all 'that place where the legendary Dave Strider lives.' Though who or what Skaia is, nobody knows. An unsolved mystery for the ages. I say it has to do with aliens, because if you're an avid watcher of the History Channel, you just know that when an unsolved mystery rears its head, aliens are behind it some way or another. It isn't really a proper unsolved mystery unless we got some alien involvement."

"You are kind of silly, Dave. Would you like to be friends?" asked John nervously. After being ignored and ridiculed at school, it felt good to be talked to by somebody his own age.

"Well shit, man, you don't just go up and ask people like that. I guess you're supposed to chat a while first, like I was doing. Take some time. Make a few ironic macaroni necklaces. Trade sandwiches at lunch. Beat each other up."

"Beat each other up?"

"Oh, sure. Dirk and I do it all the time. I grab a shitton of shitty swords, he grabs a puppet or two, he gets a few cuts and I get traumatized for life. It all works out."

"I guess," said John. "That sounds kind of dumb. Whoa, what is that?"

A few drops of oil stuck to one of the steps. John had to windmill his arms to keep from stepping on it. Oil completely coated the next stair and all of the ones after it. Drops fell between the steps, which had no risers. John wondered why Skaia Institute had to be so weird and gross all the time.

"That's not normal," said Dave. His expression didn't change, but then again his expression never changed.

"Do we have to walk through that stuff? I don't want to get all this slime all over my Dad's shoes," said John.

"Nah man, no need to muss up your old man's shoes. We can't get them all oil-colored. Might mesh poorly with their natural charcoal coloring. Tell you what, this oil might be a sign of somebody doing shit they aren't supposed to do, and my trick is getting rid of evidence."

"Wow, that sounds great for pranks. You must be some kind of pranking master, like Colonel Sassacre."

"Colonel Sassacre?" asked Dave.

"You don't know who Colonel Sassacre is? Holy crap. I will have to tell you. He was this guy and he lived basically forever ago and when-"

"Hold it right there," said Dave, "I need to focus on getting this oil to go away. Not that listening for hours about old dudes who give out trick cans of peanuts isn't my sole reason for living." He squatted down and pulled his arms over his head, waving them in tiny circles. Then he kicked out and spun around twice. His shoulders shook up and down. The oil vibrated and then disappeared.

"So we're going to learn these weird movements to make our powers work better?" asked John.

"Rad dance moves make anything better, whether they're strictly needed or not. It's an undeniable truth about the workings of the universe. Before God said 'let there be light,' he WAS all 'everybody who can pop and lock with solid skill gets automatic cool points.' The oil went away, which means someone was up to no good. Probably Horuss or Equius with their beautiful and erotic machinery."

"Beautiful and..." said John.

"Eeee-raaawt-iiic," said Dave. "Now let's head down."

They walked for a long time. The air smelled moldy and stuffy in the depths. The lights on the walls got brighter as if to compensate for being so far away from the sun. "Wow, it is going to suck coming back up here later. Does somebody have the power to transport everybody up a ginormous set of stairs?" asked John.

"You just gotta pump the ol' muscles. I guess I should warn you know: if you fall while you're on these stairs you are in for a nonstop blitzkrieg of hurt."

"Consider me sufficiently warned about the stairs," said John.

They made it to the bottom of the stairs where most of the other clones and Condelle already waited for them. Everybody but Condelle wore a hazmat suit. The room looked enormous, big enough to fit a stack of football stadiums. Everything was bright and painted pink, though multicolored stains coated the floor and lower walls. Along the opposite wall from the staircase rested a group of bulky, white hazmat suits and two doors marked with a girl in a skirt and a guy in a tuxedo. A figure wearing a hazmat suit stepped out of the girls' door.

None of that warranted much notice, however. What drew John's eye was the giant crack that dominated an entire wall. It took the general shape of a mouth wide open and filled with sharp teeth. The jagged edges were lined with a white, crumbling rock that powdered the nearby floor. He found it hard to see inside because the air in it was foggy and yellow, but he thought he could make out red hills, leafless trees, and movement. Staring at it made him feel small. It could eat him up and not even realize it.

"Pretty Freudian, right? Rose is totally in love with it. She's ready to say her vows and she's sent out all the invitations."

"That is a really big... whatever it is. Is that the gristrift? That is the biggest thing I have ever seen in my entire life, and I have seen some big things. For example, I saw the Statue of Liberty on a vacation once. It could fit in there sideways no problem."

"C'mon, let's go get changed. We eat breakfast in these separate kitchens in the locker rooms so nobody has to move the grist up all those stairs."

"Can't we skip breakfast? I mean, it looks like we are already a bit late."

"No. In here, when they say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, they aren't trying to get little kids to stop failing so much in school. I don't even know how those two things correlate. It's like parents are grasping onto anything so they don't have to realize that those F's mean little Timmy is actually stupid. I don't think a healthy serving of eggs and bacon's going to stop him from sniffing all the glue he can get his hands on."

John followed him across the colossal room. Was there a bigger room in all of existence? If so, then that room was just plain way too big. He grabbed a hazmat suit and entered the boys' locker room behind Dave.

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	7. Grist

The boys' room looked like any other locker room and smelled of sweat and cologne. A few of the other clones stood finishing up putting on their suits. John noticed that Eridan and Cronus sat among them. "What's the deal with Eridan?" John asked.

"He sat on a stick once and never managed to get up. Very tragic. Cronus is the one you've gotta stay away from. I don't think we're quite old enough for him to hit on, but you just never know. Life is full of surprises," said Dave. "We got to hurry up and eat. Miss your grist for long enough and you lose your powers."

John followed Dave through the locker room and into a tiny cafeteria, still holding his bulky hazmat suit. Dave had dropped his by his locker, but John didn't know where his own locker was. The whole place looked grimy, like nobody had bothered to bring cleaning supplies down. Only a few clones sat at tables, most of them finishing up bowls of cereal by drinking the milk at the bottom. The floor felt sticky, like in a movie theater.

"We eat cereal?" asked John.

"Good ol' Frosted Flakes. It's the easiest way to mix the grist in," said Dave, who led John to the front of the room. A small table contained a stack of bowls; a drink dispenser with choices of full milk, skim milk, and soy milk; a cereal dispenser; and a mysterious black machine which looked like a ketchup doodad. The thing that squirted ketchup when one pressed down on the top. The, you know, ketchup dealie. John had never learned its name. A credit card reader was attached to the side. John made his cereal and waited to see what Dave would do with the machine.

Dave placed his bowl under the squirter of the ketchup thingamajig and grabbed an ID card from his pocket. When he swiped it, a tiny drop of blue, no more than the size of a mosquito, fell into his bowl and mixed with the milk.

"I don't have a card. What do I do?"

"I guess Condelle's going to give you one eventually. For now, you should eat," said Dave.

"What's that blue stuff you put into your food?"

Dave walked over to a table and sat down. "It's called grist and it comes from that Godzilla's wet dream over yonder. When you take it, it enhances your powers. When you don't, eventually your powers go away. If you're one of those dudes who loves killing things and knows the details on every single shitty gun, then boy howdy will you ever love grist because you get it by killing monsters on the other side of the gristrift. It's like this hormone for them. We basically eat basilisk estrogen."

"That sounds gross, man," said John between bites of cereal. "I don't think I want to eat stuff like that. I'm not so attached to my powers that I need to eat, er, basilisk estrogen to keep them going." He scrunched his eyes and stuck his tongue out to show just how 100% nasty basilisk estrogen sounded.

"Ah, so you're more of an ogre testosterone kind of guy. Understandable. I would consider myself a giant beast juice connoisseur. You have to look at the color and the clarity first, of course. Is it that mealy, sticky blue we've all come to know and love? Then you take a deep whiff and see how far you need to cringe away. The farther, the better. The best aromas smell more like battery acid than cough syrup. After that comes the attack phase, when the grist first hits your palette. This is when you-"

"Dave, I get the feeling that you are trying to pull my leg. Let me tell you something here: you cannot beat me in a prank-off. I am simply the best there is."

"Yeah, that was a bunch of bullshit. Grist is pretty much all the same and we have no idea what it actually does in the monsters' bodies. You'll find it in these tiny sacs near their brains. And I mean tiny. Imps and lesser titachnids aren't even worth killing because you can't even get an entire drop of grist. Anyways, we need to go get suited up now because we're almost the last ones here." He slurped the milk in his cereal, which John thought really wrecked his cool guy vibe. "I can't believe you brought your suit out to eat. I think I'm rooming with a giant, oblivious dork."

"Nuh-uh. Those words only work if they are directed at you!"

"Wait! Um, excuse me, you guys. Hi. Yeah, hi." A younger clone rushed up to them and lowered his head in embarrassment as he talked. He had Hispanic features and a flattened mohawk. "I was wondering if you have seen an iguana running around anywhere? He, um, is called Horsaroni, but he does not actually respond to that name, because iguanas do not have enough of the, uh, of the neurons, to recognize things like names. As you probably maybe might have gathered, he is not in the place he is supposed to be in, so yeah."

"Haven't seen him, dude," said Dave.

"I would notice something like that," said John.

"Oh," said the boy. "...Okay. It could be that he is actually not lost at all, because Vriska, who is my hot and gorgeous girlfriend who I totally have kissed, and she sometimes gives indicators that she also loves me back, sometimes, um, she likes to do things to make me upset, and this might be one of them. I will maybe see you in the gristrift. If you are nearby, that is, of course." He scurried away to another group.

Dave and John walked together back to the locker room. John looked at his suit. It was level B, meaning it protected against splashes from hazardous chemicals but not contact from vapors. A scuba tank attached to the back. He followed Dave's lead by putting it on over his normal clothing. "What do we need all this protection from?"

"Well, the air isn't going to burn your skin in there, but it isn't breathable either. And there's puddles of corrosives everywhere you look. Plus, to get the grist, you have to dig through monster gore and that shit can burn your skin straight off." The hand gestures really sold it.

Once he was in his suit, John marveled at how much it felt like being an astronaut. Like Sandra Bullock in _Gravity_, who could, if she ever so chose, pilot a spaceship with little knowledge and an impending collision with broken satellite bits straight into his heart. Not that she posed any competition for Liv Tyler, of course. Uh-uh. No way.

Okay, maybe a little.

They walked out of the locker room, Dave doing his usual stride and John bounding like he was on the moon.

"Glad to see you finally arrived," shouted Condelle, standing at the front of the room underneath the gristrift.

"Ugh. She is not allowed to use that accent. The way she talks is just insulting and offensive because she isn't black and she does it wrong and just ugh," whispered John to Dave.

"Yeah, nobody likes her. We just stay with her because she protects us from Jack Noir and owns the gristrift. Otherwise, I would already be on my way to being the most famous rap and dubstep hybrid musician ever. I mean, -"

"We done talking here?" shouted Condelle. The last few clones stepped in next to them.

"Shit. Yeah," said Dave.

"Good, 'cause I got a couple of announcements to make. Y'all need to welcome our latest and last clone, John Egbert. He breaks into buildings." She walked over to him, which took a while because holy fuck that room was huge. "Here's your ID card to get some grist when you need it. Don't lose it; I ain't got time to make another one." John took the card, which had a picture of him as a baby on it. Adorable, if not a bit embarrassing. Condelle made the long walk back to the front of the room.

"Second off. I heard some of you been listening in on that locked door, third to the right of the girls' bathroom. No more of that shit. If you was supposed to know what's in there, I'd'a let you know what's in there. Simple as that. Next person I catch with their ear to the door and some kind of notepad in their hand loses their next five grist drops." The entire time she spoke, her head pointed at a girl John recognized as Rose from his room, who had taken the helmet to her hazmat suit off and held it by her side.

"Next. Y'all stepped through a fuckton of nasty-ass oil on the way down here. Whoever's responsible for that better watch their back because Condelle don't hold back when it's punishing time.

"Last thing. You might have noticed this crazy piece of bling on my hand right here." Since John stood near the back of the room, he couldn't see clearly when she held up her hand, but he knew she referred to the ring with the four pearls on it. "My girl Meenah said she heard rumors from one of the carapacians that there's a second one like it. Your main priority is still to find grist, but whoever can get me that ring gets one hell of a reward."

"Carapacians?" muttered John to Dave.

"They're the locals inside the gristrift. Hard black or white shells instead of skin. You know, just like we're going to have once the chitin sets in fully, only they can move. I have a friend over there who's some kind of mayor and he is awesome. Really shines the light of democracy through the horrific otherworldly darkness of the gristrift."

Condelle brought a tall ladder over and set it against the gristrift. It just touched its jagged edge. A chunk of white rock fell into the room and shattered across the floor. "Go!" said Condelle. She sauntered out of the room.

"How does the air in there not mix with the air in here?" asked John.

"There's a barrier across the whole thing that only lets solid objects and the liquids and gases contained in them through. Another great reason to wear the hazmat suits. Otherwise our eyes would be smashed against our skulls or something and the air in our lungs wouldn't make it since there's an opening at our nostrils. Condelle says never to bring anything on fire through, because she made the barrier and she knows what'll mess things up. That only really matters to Cronus, though, because he smokes. It's like the shit cherry on top of his douche sundae of a personality."

They shuffled forward with the rest of the crowd. That ladder sure looked rickety and precarious when John considered what he had heard of the gristrift. Shouldn't there have been a permanent, reinforced staircase instead? Though maybe the gristrift changed where exactly the bottom ended from day to day... the thought made him shudder.

"You should stay with me once we're in there," said Dave. "I'll show you the ropes and make it easy to kill your first monster. A baby could probably kill a basilisk if it had a powerful enough rattle and pacifier and probably an AK-47, so we'll start with that. Maybe we can look for that ring Condelle talked about. Probably some kind of ring of power. One ring to rule them and shit. I don't even know what that fucking ring did. I mean, you hear about how bad the One Ring is all the time, but you never hear about it shooting lasers or summoning velociraptors or anything. Not that I've read the books or seen the movies, so that might be why I don't know. But still, if it's so culturally significant, people should at least talk about what it's supposed to accomplish. And we're here."

"Can you go first? I'll be right behind you," said John.

"Sure thing." Dave grabbed the ladder and began climbing the rungs. With a small gulp, John followed. It had looked tall from the other side of the room, but when John actually climbed it, he realized just how massive the ladder really was. It seemed to never end. For a boy who liked to sit around and watch movies all day it was a real workout.

Dave disappeared over the edge. John hesitated. At the top of the ladder, he could see inside. Red dirt made up lumps of ground that looked more like tumors than hills. Small patches of black spikes dotted the landscape. Black trees stretched higher than any redwood with no branches and enormous umbrella-like tops. The sky swirled with dark yellow and red clouds which cast an eerie light. A small animal that looked like a pink turtle brushed up against a rock and was sucked into it.

Steeling himself for the worst, John jumped over the edge.

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**Reviews are appreciated!  
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	8. Rift

**The Mayor is not meant to have spaces between his double punctuation. FFN just won't let me put two surprise noodles or shout poles in a row. Also note that Rose is one of my favorite characters and there is a reason others don't yet like her.  
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He only fell three feet, but he still managed land in a tangled pile of limbs. The gristrift on the other side ripped through a rock wall with an inclined plane of rock gently sloping off of it. The other clones walked ahead of him out into the wilderness. A tiny, bald humanoid with black scales, sharp claws and teeth, and no toes scuttled away as John scanned the area for Dave.

"That's an imp. Ignore them and they'll ignore you."

John spun around to find a hazmat suit sitting cross-legged behind him. Peering through the headpiece, he could make out Dave's features. "Whoa, you startled me. Where are we headed? I want to kill a monster."

"Before anything else happens, we need to head out to the weapons stash. Without a sword or a gun or whatever, you're dead out here. We keep them here so we don't have to lug them up and down the stairs. You'll probably get yours tomorrow during training. I suppose she doesn't want you to kill a monster yet, and if there's one thing worth doing in life, it's defying her shitty expectations. Everybody gets a gun but you can find more stuff out here if you know where to look. Like some of the stronger monsters have weapons and sometimes you can trade for them in the carapacian cities."

They headed to the right of the gristrift. "Do you know how this place came about?" asked John.

"Not quite, but aliens are the current strongest contender."

John rolled his eyes. At the horizon, he thought he saw the sun of this strange world. Clouds floated behind it, though, which made it clear that this was a planetbound light glowing with a sunlike intensity. He thought he could make out the shape of a worm stretching to its side. "What's that?" he asked.

"One of the denizens. Jade gives them weird names and I think this one's Yaldabaoth. You don't normally see them because there aren't that many, but they're the biggest monsters out there. Definitely avoid them. Vriska saw that as a challenge and now she's missing an arm and an eye."

They arrived at a small cave in the mountain that contained the gristrift. Swords reflected the deep reds of the environment. More of the pink turtle creatures rushed out of the cave as they entered.

"This," said Dave, "is the greatest weapon ever. It's like the Batman of swords, since we all know that Batman could beat anybody with enough prep time. Sorry, Supes, but when you get reduced to a quivering Parkinson's baby at the sight of a rock that literally made up your entire home planet, you're shit at being super." He grabbed a sword with a giant hilt and a blade that seemed to be broken. "I stole it from Hephaestus's hoard. Had to break it in half because it's like the heaviest thing ever. But it'll slice through a boulder like a housewife's knife through a cheating husband's balls. All the others are shit but you need a weapon so take one."

"Okay. How do we find a monster to kill?" John picked up a small sword with a curved edge and sliced it around like Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow, skilled and sassy scourge of the seven seas.

"You track them. They leave trails of - oh." A long pause followed.

"Oh?" asked John. "What does that mean? What do they leave trails of?"

"Oil."

"Oh."

"Yeah, but I mean, it still makes more sense for it to be Horuss or Equius who did the stair thing because first of all, a monster can't escape through the rift without a suit any more than we can. It would die from the air. Carapacians are like machines I think, so they don't breathe, so they can survive on both sides, but monsters can only live in here. And only monsters leave oil. There would have needed to be hundreds of them to leave that much oil and did you see anything roaming around all weird? Because I sure as hell didn't."

"Actually yes," said John. "Yesterday, when I was coming down through the factory, there were these four eyes and they did not fit any animal or animals I have ever seen. Kind of creepy if you ask me. Are there any four-eyed monsters?"

"If it was small, it could have been a lesser titachnid. I still don't see how it could breathe, though. But of course, saying 'that's impossible!' is what all those dumb fictional scientists who don't act like real scientists do. Like, just once it would be nice to have a guy in a white coat go all 'whoa, I've never seen that before. I would like to explore its properties and modify my theories to fit it' instead of 'whoa, I've never seen that before. Time to froth at the mouth.' Anyways, Rose would be all over that shit. She's like a junior pretentiotective."

They picked a direction and walked until they found a set of slimy, black footprints. Strands of oil connected the ones made by the same feet.

"It takes a whole lot of energy to make even a little bit of refined oil. How do they do all this?" asked John as they followed the prints. They stepped around corrosive puddles that the monster seemed to have just sloshed through.

"I have no idea. Again, ask Rose. She knows all about how this place works. Or don't. She's a stuck-up flighty broad if ever I saw one."

In the distance, John saw a black speck leaning against one of the spindly umbrella trees. They walked closer and he could make out a bulky, muscular shape with a large horn sticking out of its head. The oil got thicker the closer they got.

"Get out your sword," said Dave. "That's a keratos. You have to kind of weaken it with a bunch of sideswipes before facing it head on. Monsters can take a shitton of damage and they heal like fucking Wolverine."

"You know, for all the tough and cool talk you use, you sure do know a lot about dork things like superheroes."

"It's all ironic of course," said Dave. "I learned about these superheroes ironically. Maybe someday you will understand and become as much of an irony god as I am."

"Doooork," said John.

He drew his sword. The creature stood about three Nicholas Cages high and eight Nicholas Cages wide. Muscles bulged from its thick, vaguely human figure. A dull anger lit its eyes as it surveyed the kids. "Yaaaaaaaaaa!" said John, racing with his sword drawn for the keratos's side. The sword sank a couple of inches into its tough skin and stopped. A monstrous head turned towards John, eyes narrowing and horn lowering. He had to tug on his blade a few times to get it out.

Before the keratos could attack him, Dave sliced its other side. The cut John made sealed up as he watched, scabbing over before healing completely with only a thin scar. The keratos bellowed and the ground shook. A few drops of odd-colored rain began to fall and John felt glad for his hazmat suit.

After ten minutes of John attacking one side and Dave attacking the other, the cuts stopped fully healing. Rivulets of candy-red blood streamed down the keratos's sides and mixed with the oil it sweated. Hissing rain poured down on them. Though the sky crackled, no lightning ever dropped.

"Alright," shouted Dave, "let's finish him off. Stab for the chest. He should be too slow now to stop you."

John roared and launched himself at the monster. It tried to put its arms out to stop him, but it moved too slow. The sword must have hit an important organ, because the keratos cut off mid-bellow and slumped to the ground in a bloody mess.

"Now we have to reach in and look for the grist sac," said Dave.

"Aw gross! Can you do that part?"

Dave shrugged. "You'll have to learn eventually. They're usually under the base of the skull." He made an incision with his sword and reached around. Both of their suits were spattered with monster blood. The rain, which was letting up, didn't do anything to wash it off. "Here we are. This one has a nice big one. Should be enough for both of us. We can go in now."

"How about we don't? I mean, there is that ring. We should look for it. And we should ask the carapacians about this oil stuff."

"You go ahead. I'm heading back. Nearest carapacian city is right behind those trees. It's a ten minute walk. I just have this weird thing about wanting to go home and rest after getting coated in blood and acid after a giant fucking battle. Probably just me."

"Okay, Dave. Be a loser nerdozoid. I guess you will miss out on a bunch of fun and cool stuff including the answer to the oil mystery," said John. Dave headed back towards the gristrift's mountain.

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The carapacian city was a whole lot bigger than John's hometown of Maple Valley, Washington. Evenly spaced roads intersected neat lines of houses, all of which surrounded a small downtown area of stores and skyscrapers. Every house was either pure black or pure white, with the roads enclosing squares of a single color. Half of the downtown area shone a brilliant gold. The other half glowed dark purple. Short, cute, monochrome humanoids slightly reminiscent of the imp from earlier walked the streets.

As he stared, a group of other clones in hazmat suits walked up next to him and entered the city. "Wait!" said John, running to catch up.

"You must be the new addition. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," said one of them when he caught up. They walked across the black grass of a dark lawn.

"Yeah. I am John."

"Hello, John boy. I am Kanaya. Are you here to seek explanations for the mysteries of the ring and the oil?"

"Hell yes. Are you guys all after that too? Figuring things out?"

"Yes. This is Terezi and the older clone is Jane, though perhaps we should get to know each other when our faces are not encased in these suits. Though we mainly consider ourselves feminine sleuths from the same general idea as Nancy Drew, or perhaps more accurately Kami Glass, a boy may be allowed to tag along if he so chooses."

"So where are we going?"

"We have a meeting with the Mayor," said Kanaya. Wow, they sure walked fast. John had to kind of half-jog to keep up.

"Whoa, Dave says he knows the Mayor. That is so cool. He also says the Mayor is awesome. Is the mayor awesome?"

"Quite."

Looking behind him, John noticed the outline of another suit keeping a steady distance behind them. The person stopped and ran behind a building. "Did you know somebody is following us?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. That would be Rose, or Lady Long Words," said Terezi in a high-pitched voice. "She likes to take newbies like you and beat them up with her stabby little needles. Just horrible. You won't hang out with _Rose_, will you John?" Kanaya subtly backed away and shook her head as Terezi spoke.

"Uh, I guess not. I haven't exactly heard a lot of positive words so far about her."

"Good, John. I wouldn't want you to gullibly fall for her false words like a little baby panda bear," said Terezi with an eerie grin on her face.

After a few minutes, they reached the center of town. One side of the road had golden buildings; the other side, purple.

A jittery black carapacian in a top hat and a fancy sash ran up to the group. "Hello again! ! I am so sorry for being un-punctual. A mayor must be timely when meeting with important foriegn dignitaries after all. Oh my gosh is that a new important foreign dignitary. Wow mister important foreign dignitary I am impressed with your rugged good looks and also your significant stature." He directed the last remarks toward John, who smiled and reached out the bloodstained hand of his hazmat suit. The Mayor shook it.

"I am actually not an important dignitary. I'm a kid," said John.

"Ah but you are from beyond the gristrift, yes. That settles it. And I would never discriminate based on age. A good mayor takes all opinions into account even really dumb ones like the Aimless Renegade offers. That is what distinguishes him from being a king and I don't like kings they are bad."

"The door mystery remains unsolved. How goes the search for the Shadow?" asked Kanaya. She spoke in a slow, determined manner.

"The Shadow has once again evaded the wondrous police force of Prospit-Derse. The Shadow has also killed several of my good citizens and that makes me angry! ! How can a city be great if all its citizens are dead. I do not know. Is there anything else of importance on your end? ?"

"Actually, yeah. There is this oil on our side and we don't know how it got here. Any ideas?" asked John.

"No! ! You said monsters cannot survive on the other side of the gristrift because of the air! ! Also as a dignified carapacian I do not concern myself with monsters they are gross."

"Alright. There is a second issue of concern," said Kanaya. "We are searching for a ring that matches this picture." She brought out a photograph of Condelle's ring from the outside pocket of her hazmat suit.

"Yes but I do not know where it is," said the Mayor. "Jack Noir was always after it with his midnight crew but then your mayor took them through the gristrift. Maybe one of them has it."

"We have all heard of Jack Noir, but who is this midnight crew? Word has never arrived at my ears of others coming through the gristrift."

"Ugh the midnight crew are terrible awful awful and should be apprehended by the law but that is the Aimless Renegade's deal. The one you think of as Jack Noir well we actually knew him as the Scurrilous Straggler and he had these bad bad horrible bad friends. The worst was the Draconian Dignitary he was tough and bad but the others were bad too. Such as the Courtyard Droll and the Hegemonic Brute sucks. They are all terrible and I am glad they are gone! !"

"Very interesting," said the Kanaya. She glanced back at where Rose stood whenever she thought nobody was looking. "Is there any significant news on your end?"

"Yes yes there is! ! I have found the girl of my dreams! ! I am thinking of getting her a present. It will be soft and cuddly and this time not a fungus. If you could maybe find something like that and give it to me good."

"Gotcha, little guy," said John.

"Hey though I am little compared to you the light of Democracy shines brightly in me and therefore I am actually big! !" he said.

John and the girls headed back, talking in circles about the possible relevance of the midnight crew. John felt like the facts he had added up to something, but he just couldn't put his finger on what.

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**Reviews are much appreciated yes! !**


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